


Kellen: Have an Episode

by necrosweater



Series: OneAM-Bound [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: ??idontwanttotriggeranyoneitsreallynotthatbad, Blood makeup, F/M, OneAM-bound, Slavery, Slaves as pets, Uh..., facial mutilation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 19:06:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necrosweater/pseuds/necrosweater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kellen has a great idea. With a lovely intro by the wonderful scytherei</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kellen: Have an Episode

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of an ongoing series. Said series also involves a large amount of stupid comics, as can be found at http://oneamcomics.tumblr.com .  
> Enjoy, or don't. The choice is yours.

_You know immediately that something is wrong. She isn't herself. You watched her enough, you still do, and you like to think you know her mannerisms. You know how to make her happy and how to tell when she's upset with you. But right now, you look at her, and you know you must have fucked up. She doesn't look angry, but at the same time, she sets off all your instinctual red-flags. Your core sees the vibrant orange of her eyes (were they always that colour?) and screams at you to run. Get up, turn, and dart off as quickly as you can._  


 

_But you know you won’t. You know she doesn't like it when you're flighty. Pets aren't supposed to flee when their masters want something. She says your name, and it rings off her tongue, poison-sweet and sending a horrible chill down your spine. You couldn't get up if you wanted to, now. You are frozen in terror._

 

“Shello, Guppy,” you coo in the most disgustingly sweet voice you can summon up. He looks so deliciously terrified; you don’t even know how to handle yourself. You note the way his fingers twitch against the couch where he'd accidentally fallen asleep and smile, your sharp teeth pressing against your lip in a way that would probably be uncomfortable if you hadn’t lived with them your entire life. You can tell by the way the air feels charged and smells vaguely of ozone that he’s getting worked up. If it weren’t for the conditioning he’s been through not to raise hand nor psion against his owner you know you’d probably be feeling a bit more static energy running through your body. The thought makes your smile widen, which has a correlation on his eyes.

You hone in on the scar on his left cheek, the one that’s still kind of scabbed over. He’s had it since you picked him up for less than half-price at the flea market a few perigrees ago from Vic and Al. You hadn't ever really noticed it before, so much as noticed the way he tries to hide it. You've spent a healthy amount of time watching him try to look like he's not arranging his hair to fall over the mark, or hold his head at an angle where it's not so visible. You suddenly wonder where he got it, and feel a bit disappointed that your sweet little yellow guppy can't talk anymore, and you can't find out. That's absolutely fine though, because nothing says you can't ask.

"So, Reelas... that is what your name was, right, frond?" He flinches as you step toward the couch, drawing his legs in as close as he can. It's kind of hilarious to watch because despite his small frame and the way he holds himself, your guppy is not a small troll. You suspect if he were to be well fed and taken care of, he could fill into his height and be quite an intimidating size. You take another step, watching him flounder around in nervousness, his shoulders pulling in tight to his body, cowering into the corner. The next step he jumps about six feet in the air, because you turn your step into a lunge, planting your hands firmly on each side of him, putting your face (as well as your teeth) in close proximity with his. You notice that his wide silvery eyes aren't quite as dull as you'd assumed before, and you can see your silhouette in their reflection. He doesn't seem to know how to handle your sudden eye contact, and that wonderful yellow of his rises to the surface of his face. You decide you want to see more of it.

"I codn't kelp boat make an... observation of sorts on your shrimply fintastic face." The yellow intensifies, starting to darken. You make a dramatic show of lowering your eyelids and sweeping your gaze slowly down to his left cheek. There's a deliciously sharp intake of breath when you bring your hand up to stroke at the shiny new skin forming there. "Poor little angelfish... that looks pike it must have hurt." Your smile hardens and you start rubbing it a little harder. Reelas's trimmed claws start to pick at the fibers of the couch. "If only you were as high as I am on the 'Spectrum it probubbly would have disappiered by now. Oh, don't look so offended, Guppy! It's reely knot that noticeable." You apply a miniscule increase in pressure, to him it must feel like a lot.

"How did you get that, anenomeway?” You smirk at the way he tries to answer, mouth opening and closing helplessly around the words he can’t make. Most of the regret you were feeling about his inability to answer has disappeared with the distance between you and the couch now that you get to see the effects. He’s still not sure what to do with his eyes, and you can feel him trying to look at you without looking _at_ you for fear of making you angry. His incompetence at even viewing your face suddenly makes you angry- no, this is past anger. This is pure, barely contained, boiling frustrated rage. Something in the back of your thinkpan whispers meekly that you should probably drop Reelas and make your way to Jasaya as fast as possible, but the rest of your being chases that insignificant speck away.

You give him no warning before your neatly manicured claw plunges past the first layer of scar tissue, slicing unevenly upwards, turning the jagged line into a clean triangular shape. You almost want to cry at the exquisitely delectable sounds he’s making in his pain; his limited vocalizations seem to make the whole event even more enjoyable than they already were. You withdraw your thumb, now saturated with that marvelous yellow, and stare at it in wonder. You don’t like the way the Hemospectrum devalues lowbloods; you think their blood is beautiful, just as highblood colours are beautiful. They all go well with your skin tone, and as far as you’re concerned, that’s all that matters. In one swift movement you grab your guppy and flop down onto the couch, perching next to him.

“So shellfish, Guppy. Keeping all that liquid gold to yourshellf. I’m getting jellyfish. Do you know what happens when I get jellyfish, Guppy?” You can feel his body quiver in luscious terror when you brush his long hair back, exposing his normally covered right eye, along with the rest of his face. You smirk coldly, dragging your thumb across his nose, bringing it to his clear, unmarred right cheek. Once you’ve wiped most of the yellow off your thumb, you go back, this time using your pointer finger. You gather more blood, enjoying his whimpering and drawing a nice circle around his right eye, which closes as you get near it. Poor kid probably thinks you’re going to stab his ganderbulb out, and while that does sound like fun, you decide to save that for another time, you have a feeling damaging this troll will prove to be rewarding, and you wouldn’t want to waste it all in one go! You continue with this pattern, prodding, poking and scratching, gathering, and then painting, until the circle on his face has three spokes, and a hook coming from the bottom. It’s just as you’d expected: Reelas looks great with your sign.

“Hey, Guppy.” You slap his cheek briskly, trying to bring him back to the present. He’s not allowed to go anywhere else. “Yo, Reelas. With me here? Woah there buoy, roll back the attitide. Yes, I am shelling you to stop with the kicked barkbeast face. It’s knot going to get you anenomewhere betta, and nauty trolls get punished. Do we want to get punished, Guppy?” His breath hitches strikingly when you pat his cheek again, and he opens his eyes. “I bassed you a question, you unthankful whelp. You might have fucked up your annoying little voice, but you can still answer me when I talk to you, comprendo?” You grab his chin indelicately, and wrench his pupilless silver orbs back into contact with your own bulbs. “Unless you’re a complete and totally idiot, I bereef you shoald be able to nod that stupid little bobber of yours in response to the words that come out of my mouth. Krilliant idea, ain’t it?” A line of translucent yellow makes its way down his nose, and you break eye contact first in an attempt to watch it. You notice his gasp as you reach out; catching it on your fingertip, then mix it with the blood from his cheek. He watches you uneasily as your smile warms, and you spread the pigmented mixture across your lips, claiming this colour as your own, never breaking eye contact. When you’re done you tilt your head a bit, and say, “One more time, Angelfish. You’re going stop with the outraygeous sadface. You keep looking at me pike I’m gonna hurt you. It’s all good. Everyfin’s good, right?” You give him a meaningful look and he nearly panics when he realizes you want a response, and then nods his head frantically, trying to calm his features down. You bring your hand back up to his cheek, returning to the gentle circular stroking of his face. “Yeah, everyfin’s all good. You still messed up a bit, Guppy, boat I think eventually you’ll figure all this stuff out. You can do that for me, right Guppy?” More nodding, more tears, more trying not to look upset for fear of angering you farther. “Good buoy, good little Angelfish.”

You reach your other arm out and pull him closer, enjoying his lowblood warmth against your skin. He doesn’t resist when you start petting his head down, until he’s cuddled up against your lap. “Good little Guppies get cuddles. That’s much betta than being all cooped up in the bassment, right?” All the tension that had ebbed out of his body with your petting rushes back in like a tidal wave. Your newly painted mouth curls. “No, I don’t think you’ll have to worry aboat going back to the bassment, Guppy. I think we’ll do just fin.”

You stay there, stroking his hair, letting him cry out his fear into your lap until he falls asleep again. No, you don’t think you’ll be throwing this one back in. He’s your sweet little Guppy, and you think everything’s going to go swimmingly.

Everything is going to be just fine.


End file.
